


color scheme

by exsooline



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, M/M, No Angst, One Shot, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exsooline/pseuds/exsooline
Summary: mingyu’s bullets of color bring excitement to other's lives, but they don’t seem to have the same effect on his own.wonwoo’s shadows of grey offer comfort and peace to his readers, but why don’t they feel like home to him?or where mingyu's an avid color photographer and wonwoo's an author
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	color scheme

**Author's Note:**

> the povs alternate between mingyu and wonwoo! sorry if it's confusing :(

color is the root to all emotions, mingyu believes. happy is yellow, sad is blue, love is red. mingyu thinks happy can also be green, sad can be grey, and love can be pink. his entire career is based off of this margin of abstract. there isn’t a single piece of his that is bland, and it’s what gained him an audience with the rich, bored, and self-proclaimed eccentric.   
mingyu’s bullets of color bring excitement to their lives, but they don’t seem to have the same effect on his own.

wonwoo lives his life on paper. curves of jet black ink on clean white sheets (recycled paper is slightly beige if he’s feeling adventurous) is all he needs to express himself, and not once has he strayed from the comfort of monotones, the reassurance that there’s no unwarranted surprise on the next page. his books sell fairly well for what they are in this digital color-obsessed era, but he prefers to focus on the romance of it all instead of the analytics.  
wonwoo’s shadows of grey offer comfort and peace to his readers, but why don’t they feel like home to him?

mingyu is a bit of a whirlwind, his friends have said on multiple occasions. he walks in, shakes everything up, and leaves. he doesn’t really understand what they mean, because he’s just trying to make everything work the best he can. he likes to think there’s a method to his madness. all his color pairings and mixtures and combinations are tangible representations of the way he views the world: bright, vibrant, kaleidoscopic. he never thought he’d get tired of the way colors pierce his eyes and roam around his life.  
until he met wonwoo.

it’s rare for wonwoo to stray out of his normal routine: breakfast at home, a short walk through the park (because his editor keeps telling him he blends in with his white walls), coffee from his favorite cafe bookstore, and work from his home office until dinnertime. there’s no real reason for his punctuality, but it’s what he’s used to and feels comfortable with. the same people, the same food, the same sights. he used to think that was what home felt like.  
until he met mingyu.

—

the man doesn’t like colors. mingyu understands that the moment he sees the other, when he decides to take a detour into an old bookstore for some vintage props. the man is dressed head to toe in shades of black, and he matches perfectly with the dim atmosphere. mingyu looks down at his bright orange sweater and decides he isn’t going to strike up a conversation. he notices it the second time they meet too, when the guy shows up at his newly-opened gallery in nearly the same outfit save for a grey beanie on his head. the crinkle of his nose as they take in mingyu’s array of pigments is enough said.  
he would’ve been offended by the blatant disrespect if the man didn’t continue his way into the gallery and spend an hour observing the photos. there is no change in his expression the entire time, but mingyu can see the caution fade off his shoulders and condense into curiosity.

wonwoo notices him the moment he stepped into the bookstore. it would’ve been harder not to; the man is wearing the ugliest orange sweater with unconcealed confidence. he doesn’t have it in himself to look at the monstrosity straight-on, so he settles for having orange tint in the corner of his eye. he realizes he can only breathe easy when the man leaves and questions how the color doesn’t blind the person wearing it.  
he sees the man through the window the following week on his way home from the bookstore. he is wearing purple that day, and wonwoo briefly wonders how he is able to recognize him without the orange. maybe the orange isn’t what stood out. his feet guide him into the rainbow gallery and it takes wonwoo a moment to gather his surroundings. he hasn’t been enveloped by so much color since art class in college, and even then he did his best to stick to regular graphite and paper. it isn’t an exaggeration to say his eyes hurt. but the man at the far end of the gallery looks at him to say hello, and wonwoo finds himself moving closer to him, one photo at a time.

the man moves closer to mingyu at a consistent pace of one step every 3 minutes. it seems like the streaming sunlight follows his every movement, because the illumination around him doesn’t disappear. right now, mingyu realizes that the man’s coat is actually a very dark grey, the color of worn-out asphalt after children have played on it with bicycles. the sweater he’s wearing inside is a bit lighter, maybe the color of the sky before it’s about to cry. mingyu doesn’t like rainy days, but he thinks he can make an exception for this man and his sweater. the man’s pants are probably the only black item he has on, but the fabric is slightly speckled with dust, possibly from the musty book he’s carrying. it reminds mingyu of sleepless nights, messy stars, and fireflies. suddenly he’s walking toward the man, because mingyu has never seen someone so colorless yet flavorful.   
“hello, i’m mingyu,” he decides to say on the way over. “what do you think of this photo?”

for the first time in his life, wonwoo is at a loss for words. to be fair, he only ever really pens them down; speaking is a whole other story. but right now, he can’t even muster the courage to reach for his notebook. the man, _mingyu_ from his self-introduction, is peering at him expectantly in his purple jacket and yellow shoes and he doesn’t know where to rest his eyes. he settles for the other’s hair, which spans his forehead as a pleasant shade of caramel, the color of wonwoo’s coffee after a pump of syrup and almond milk. the man’s skin isn’t too far off either, and wonwoo can only think of summer sand and sticky chocolate ice cream cones. what a contrast it must be next to his own paler-than-snow skin.  
it takes wonwoo a couple of seconds to register the words the man, _mingyu_ , said. “what do you think of this photo?” he turns to look at it, because he frankly cannot remember what it was. and what a surprise, it’s colors. what he sees is nothing less than the brightest shades of every primary color, complete with one black figure in the middle. wonwoo did not know cameras could capture this sort of vibrancy, and he strangely relates to the outlined figure in the middle.  
“i think it’s sad.”  
“sad?”  
wonwoo turns to look into mingyu’s eyes and finds instant relief in their inky hue.  
“sad, because the person is the only thing that’s black in a sea of colors. he can’t join them though, because he’ll taint the rest too.”  
the other smiles at him, pastel pink, and it makes wonwoo hope what he said was the right answer.

mingyu smiles, because the other feels like the answer personified. he doesn’t respond though. his clothing alone should be answer enough.  
the man leaves soon after, taking all of his monochrome with him, and mingyu is left with an odd feeling, something like when his frames aren’t centered or when a pedestrian photobombs the perfect shot. regret, maybe.  
he walks home that day with glassy eyes and tunnel vision. _he should’ve asked for his name, he should’ve asked for his number, he should’ve worn his only pair of white shoes today instead of the yellow._ his 4 year old bichon greets him at the door of his apartment, but he doesn’t find himself as excited for her and her magenta collar as much today. she whines at him loudly and mingyu takes pity. he picks her up and brings her over to his forest green couch, grimacing slightly at the noisy clash his purple jacket makes. the couch is one of the most expensive furniture pieces he had ever invested in, but today he feels like maybe he should’ve waited for the sold-out beige. he closes his eyes and tries to recall the slanted shades on the guy’s face. sharp nose, thin lips, high cheekbones, all of them had casted shadows in different colors. there had been temptation to reach out and tap, just to see if his own copper skin would bleed onto the surface. he didn't, obviously, but the regret was there. he sighs and wonders when he started to prefer quiet over noise.

wonwoo decides to visit the gallery again. he had stayed up all night yesterday debating the pros and cons of walking past that door again, but the little devil on his left shoulder eventually won over the angel perched on his right. and maybe he can argue that the devil is controlling his movements, because he would never walk into his usual cafe and order coffee for two. the barista stares back at him for a moment before confirming wonwoo’s order of two cups. he nods, a little strained, and the barista nods back, equally as strained. dear god, wonwoo’s never doing this again.   
he retracts his statement when he walks through the yellow door and sees mingyu’s head pop up behind his desk like a dog. today’s wardrobe choice is a rather plain sky blue jumpsuit, and honestly, wonwoo had expected something more exciting. he’s definitely surprised, then, when mingyu walks out to greet him and his shoes are a mix between sneakers and rain boots, color an atrocious lime green. wonwoo smiles before greeting the man, stretching out a cup of coffee as an answer to a question mingyu never asked. the man cocks his head in confusion, lights up in understanding, and accepts in delight. wonwoo thinks this is a worthy addition to his morning routine, because all of the sudden his hands itch with the need for a pen and his brain grasps for synonyms for “radiant”. he stays a while though, just in case there’s more inspiration from the man with the camera. the two walk side by side down the gallery, night and day, no noise except for quiet sips of coffee. wonwoo can tell mingyu wants to say something, but he’s content with the silence and doesn’t ask until the other does.

the bell alerts mingyu that a visitor has entered, and it takes him a moment to recognize who it is. today’s outfit is not much different from the last, but there is a certain aura around the man that confuses mingyu a bit. he looks warm, blissful, maybe a little shy, and the pretty golden glow is like a magnet, attracts mingyu to him. walking closer, he notices that the man is holding two cups of coffee, and the skip in his step falters slightly. the man offers one out to him with a small hello. mingyu didn’t know his heart could surge from rock bottom to sky high so fast.   
the two walk next to each other, looking at the photos mingyu has looked at a million times before, communicating through sips of coffee and taps of feet. mingyu wants to ask, but he doesn’t know if the other wants him to ask. curiosity finally gets the better of him, like it always does. “what’s your name?” he blurts out, immediately feeling guilty at the man’s startle. it doesn’t take more than a second for the confusion to turn into a soft smile. “wonwoo,” comes the reply. “jeon wonwoo.”

the way mingyu lights up is breathtaking. he radiates rainbows through every pore and vibrates with the need to burst. his eyes remain a reassuring brown, yet there’s a twinkle there that wonwoo thinks he can get lost finding. “nice to meet you wonwoo,” he hears. he hears chimes and whistles; he had never known his name could be coated with so many different shades of the same color. honey golden, he decides. his name is honey golden when mingyu says it.

—

wonwoo is wearing blue today. granted, it’s mingyu’s hoodie, but the man looks comfortable and doesn’t resist when mingyu pulls him into his lap. the soft sigh he lets out is still very much wonwoo, a light grey, and for that mingyu is thankful. “good morning,” he whispers into his boyfriend’s neck; the other replies with an equally quiet greeting. mingyu thinks he could die from the bliss, but then he wouldn’t be able to be with wonwoo, so he brushes off the thought.   
it’s always a surprise, what item of his wonwoo will decide to steal for the day. he had long stopped trying to guess, because it seems like the man himself doesn’t know either. mingyu likes it this way, likes the self-induced suspense beginning two minutes before wonwoo walks out of the bedroom. he also likes it when wonwoo has a meeting and has to wear his own blacks and whites, or when mingyu takes all of his colors with him and leaves wonwoo with tones of grey.  
mingyu’s everything revolves around wonwoo, just like the colors revolving around the black figure in that one photo. he hopes one day, he’ll be able to convince wonwoo that the black encompasses all the rest of the colors, that the black is just as intricate and unique as the rest of it. until then, he’ll circle and circle around him as palettes of energy, blurs of pigment.

in all honesty, wonwoo’s eyes had been half-open when he picked the hoodie up and fit it on. he only noticed when the material slid off his shoulders from its size and he realized it was mingyu’s. a pause, then a shrug. it didn’t bother him as much as it would if he took it off again. he walks out to his black-and-white living room, save for the blob of mingyu-shaped color on his couch. his boyfriend lights up at the sound of footsteps, as he always does, and makes grabby hands at him. the self-restraint wonwoo displays trying not to smile is commendable, even as he allows mingyu to pull him back by his waist. whoever decided love felt like pink is wrong, wonwoo thinks. love is purple, maybe green, and sometimes even orange whenever mingyu decides to pull out the sweater he wore to the cafe that very first day.  
love is definitely mingyu, and mingyu is definitely home. mingyu is the place wonwoo leaves in the morning and thinks of during the day and returns to in the evening. he’s the thing wonwoo searches for in everything else and yet never finds. he draws wonwoo in despite his best efforts to stay separate, solidifies his space in his life day by day, and eventually wonwoo stopped trying. mingyu is home, he acknowledges, _wonwoo’s_ home.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! come holler at me on twt if you want :)


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